Before you read, keep in mind that Snape in this story is not a good guy. This is a Snape that is grey bordering on dark at best, and dark at worst. I will say it right here: their relationship is very inappropriate and toxic and in no way do I condone it. Snape's a paedophile and Harriet is fucked up. However, that's not to say that this will be a story where Snape abuses her constantly and she takes it and falls in love with him within 5 minutes. In real life, this would be unacceptable, but this is fiction and not the real world. If this type of stuff bothers you, please do not read this story. In case you missed it, Snape's OOC here.

"Would you two just shut it?" Ron and Hermione had been arguing as soon as they had returned from their patrols, which had been just 5 minutes ago. Harriet already had a headache and the familiar ball of anger was crawling up her chest once again. She was out the compartment before they could say a word, shoving past small groups of students that were gathered in the corridors. She hadn't a destination in mind, just that she had to get out of there. Immediately.

"Potter," a voice that she had heard nearly every day for the past 4 years growled. Harriet realised that she had bumped into her much-feared Potions Master the impact of which knocked her to the ground. Unfortunately, Snape didn't seem to be affected by it at all beyond a bit of annoyance. She groaned as she clumsily got herself off the ground. This was just her luck. To be fair, she was pretty lucky on a survival basis. When it came to day-to-day stuff, it was a different story.

"Tell me, what is the point of having glasses if they do not seem to work?" He brushed off his robes, never mind that they didn't seem to have a single wrinkle on them. She glared resentfully at him. "They work just fine, sir. Perhaps I walked into you on purpose." She didn't but he didn't have to know that.

"Bodily harm of a Professor is grounds for expulsion, Potter." Her eyes widened slightly at that. Getting expelled would mean going back to the Dursleys and she'd sooner make out with Albus Dumbledore than go back there willingly. "That's only if you could get him to acknowledge my existence," she muttered darkly. "I truly am sorry, sir." She wasn't, but if that would get him to go away and leave her alone.

His eyes narrowed, probably sensing her insincerity "I don't trust you an inch, Potter-" right back at ya -"I'll be keeping an eye on you." He gave her one last glare before turning on his heel and gliding away. How did the man do that anyways?

Harriet returned to her friends immediately, not wanting to give the sour man a reason to make good on his word. At her entrance, Ron smiled unsurely at her while Hermione looked away, not without giving Harriet an 'I'm disappointed in you' look. How dare she? Who does she think she is? My Mother?

You're being unreasonable, she told herself, You're lucky to still have them, God knows why they choose to stick around. Stop this behaviour before you lose them.

The tension in the room could be cut with a knife. Hermione seemed to be content with ignoring her and Ron seemed to be wanting to say something, just the words wouldn't come out.

The first thing Harriet felt was anger-how dare they ignore her? Immediately after, Harriet felt a pang of guilt-she was speaking like an entitled brat. Her friends didn't deserve this.

It was what felt like hours later when it finally hit Harriet. "Hermione?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Are Professors supposed to be on the Hogwarts Express?"

The bushy-haired girl frowned, biting on her lip, "Why do you ask? Professor Lupin was aboard our third year, if you remember. I don't see why not." She did remember. She wanted to scream that she wasn't an idiot, nor did she suffer from amnesia, but instead she filled the two in.

"Professor Snape, Harry," Hermione admonished once Harriet was finished.

Ron scowled, "Oh, lay off it, 'Mione. The git doesn't deserve the title of a professor." Harriet smiled gratefully at her ginger companion. At least she'd always have him on her side. She loved Hermione to bits and pieces, seriously, she did, but the older witch annoyed her just as much sometimes.

"Deserve it or not, he's still a-"

"Hogwarts Professor?" Harriet mocked, "We know. We've only heard it about a bajillion times. Though, I can think of one thing he deserves," Said Harriet thoughtfully, "A special place in Hell."

"Filled with smiling children," Ron snickered.

"And happiness. He may actually be allergic to both."

"The poor children," Ron said with much emotion, shivering exaggeratingly. The two burst into laughter, their problems forgotten for the moment. Even Hermione smiled before catching herself. "You guys are so- ugh." Hermione didn't say a word the rest of the trip, but Harriet was in a much-improved mood.

Dolores Umbridge wasn't just a pretentious toad as Harriet had decided at her court hearing. No, she was a fucking bitch. Yes, that would describe her perfectly, even if Hermione wouldn't approve of her choice of language. Speaking of Hermione, she was currently telling Harriet what a terrible idea speaking back to Umbridge had been-as if she didn't already know that! "Hermione, the old hag deserved it," Ron pointed out, interrupting her.

"Or," Harriet said coldly, before Hermione could defend herself, "Does Umbridge, too, deserve the title of 'Professor?'" She stood up abruptly and, swinging her schoolbag over her shoulder, left them.

"Come in!" The shrill voice that made Harriet want to claw her ears out called. Harriet, with one last sigh, entered the room. The room was decorated nothing like the previous owners. Hell, Snape's office was more pleasant than this. The wallpaper was a bright hot pink colour, and the rest of the room seemed to fit the 'pink' theme. A floral cloth draped the round, wooden table. Umbridge smiled sweetly at Harriet and ordered her to sit down at the table.

"Anything to say?" She asked, seeing Harriet's face taking on a red colour. Harriet's fists clenched and it was all she could do to not punch that sweet smile right off of her face. A smile did not belong there. "No, Ma'am."

"Good! We're learning already," she cooed. "I'm going to have you write lines, Miss Potter." Harriet was about to reach for her schoolbag when Umbridge's meaty fingers wrapped around her wrist as tight as a viper. "Oh, no, Miss Potter, that won't be necessary. You will be using one of my...special quills. Here you go." She handed her a long, thin black quill that really didn't look different from a normal one, except for the point, which was sharper than a normal one would be. Still, Harriet took it cautiously. She didn't want to catch rabies -was that possible?- from the wretched woman. "You will write 'I must not tell lies.'"

"How many times?" Harriet asked as she retrieved a piece of paper. She was determined to be as polite as possible so to not receive more detention. "Oh, as much as it takes for the message to sink in." Then, she laughed as if she was on some sort of inside joke.

"I need ink."

"That won't be necessary."

Harriet frowned, confused. How could one use a quill without ink? Then again, if time travel was possible, quills that didn't need ink wasn't too far-fetched. She placed the point of the quill on the paper and wrote as she was told. Red ink showed where she had written, and Harriet, for a moment, wondered how that was possible. That was until she felt the sharp pain of a knife carving words into the back of her hand. The skin healed almost immediately, though her skin was still a little red. She looked back at the paper. It wasn't ink, it was blood.

Harriet stole a look at the ministry official. She was gloating, not being able to conceal her mirth. "Yes?" She was daring her to say a word. But, Harriet wouldn't fall for it. Not this time. With a smile just as sweet, Harriet recited a 'nothing' and continued her lines.

The two continued like that until it was well after midnight. Harriet's hand stung painfully, but still, there wasn't much of an impression on her skin. Umbridge tutted disappointedly and sent her on her way, saying that she was looking forward to their next session. Harriet didn't quite share that sentiment.

Grumbling under her breath a few choice insults, Harriet skipped the stairs two steps a time and whispered the password. The Fat Lady harrumphed but allowed her passage. Harriet took a seat opposite Ron and Hermione, who she found waiting for her on the sofa. After a while, Hermione spoke up, "Harry, I wasn't trying to say that you shouldn't have stood up against her-"

"Oh really? Kinda sounded like that. But, you're right, I'm just so fucking incompetent that I probably misheard that. My bad."

"You know, you're kind of hard to talk to when you're like this."

"Like what?" Thankfully everyone else had deserted the Common Room, so there was no one else to hear them.

"Like a teenager on her...female time," Ron said, turning red.

And, that was all it took to get Harriet laughing. "Female time?"

"Oh, whatever, Harry."

"Anyways, Harry, I was just trying to say that Umbridge doesn't seem like the type of lady you want to make enemies with. And, while she deserved everything you said to her, it just ended up harming you more, didn't it?"

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry."

"It's fine, just, don't make this a habit, okay?" Harriet nodded her acquiescence and headed to bed.

"Oh my goodness, Harry. What happened?" In a rare moment of tenderness, Ron grabbed her wrist and put it level to his eyes. She had forgotten to pull the sleeve down to hide it and was reaping the consequences. "It's nothing," she lied feebly.

"Nothing? Does this look like nothing?"

"Come on, Ronnie. Drop it." Ron glared at her nickname but didn't back down. She was lucky that Ron wasn't always this stubborn. She was too tired to make it a battle of wills. She had just been coming back from her fifth day of detention when Ron had finally caught sight of her hand. The skin there didn't heal anymore, instead, blood oozed freely. With a sardonic smile, she said, "Umbridge seemed to get off of it well enough."

"That little- I'm going to murder her."

"I don't think I'd blame you." If that evil bitch caught her demise at Ronald Weasley's hands, Harriet wouldn't lift a single finger to help her. In fact, she'd cheer.

"You have to go to Madam Pomfrey."

"No!" Harriet said quickly, "I won't let her win. You can't tell. Promise me. Ron, promise me." Ron looked hesitant but he agreed, understanding her logic. "Not even Hermione."

"Right, why would I tell Hermione?" Still, his cheeks turned red. She sighed. Those two were impossible.

"Voldemort has to be controlling her! Why else would my scar hurt?"

"For the last time, Harry. You-Know-Who is not controlling her. Go to Dumbledore." Of course, Hermione's best advice would be to go to an authority figure. Harriet then reminded her that Dumbledore wasn't currently on speaking terms with her and shut the curtains around her bed as dramatically as possible before opening them once more.

"You know what? I'll just go to Sirius! Yeah, that would-"

"Be a terrible idea," Hermione intercepted, "They might get intercepted! We just never know! You can't tell him."

"Yeah, fine," Harriet huffed. She jumped out of bed and quickly covered herself with a robe.

"Hey, where are you going?"

"Out. I'll be back later."

"I thought you were going to bed," Ron said. A chessboard was set out on the table and he was playing by himself. "Wanna join?"

"Ummm, no thanks, mate, I'm good." She wasn't in the mood to get absolutely demolished once again. "Just need to write a letter to Si- Padfoot. Do me a favour and don't tell 'Mione?" The redhead only nodded and went back to his game.

Dear Snuffles,

How are you doing? I hope it's not all too terrible for you back at the house-though I can't imagine it being that great. But our furry friend must be making it more tolerable for you, huh?

Things aren't as well over here, unfortunately. I've already had a detention-two weeks of it! You'd be proud of me. Other than that, there's still quidditch and...oh, Ron's got on the team! Hermione's...Hermione, you know her, nose always in some book or other.

Anyways, to the point of this letter. My head is hurting again, the same pains from the last time I saw you.

Love, and miss you,

Harriet

"Ron, would you read this for me and tell me if it's okay?"

"It's fine." Harriet read it once more then headed to her room, deciding to send it off the next morning. Lucky for her, Hermione's curtains were closed so she didn't have any difficulty with hiding the envelope.

The next morning, Harriet woke up bright and early to get to the Owlery before anyone else. "It says Snuffles, but bring it to Sirius, okay?" Hedwig blinked once in agreement and Harriet released her out into the blue sky.

She saw Hedwig off and then left. As she was about to grasp the handle, the door sprung open, revealing Cho Chang. "Harry," she said tonelessly. Her beady eyes looked Harriet up and down. "You're up early."

"So are you." So, they were making pleasant talk. Quite a different tone than the last time the two were alone in a room together. "Yes, well, it's my Mum's birthday, I'm just dropping this off. You?"

"Same. I mean- not the Mum thing, because, well, you know, my Mum's dead and all...unless there's an Owl service that flies to Heaven or whatever...or Hell, I suppose. Didn't really know them all that well. How could I? I was one when they died. Oh, shite, I'm rambling, aren't I? Sorry." She nervously chuckled and they stood there awkwardly, both unsure what to say. "Look-about last time…"

"Yeah, I should apologize for that," Cho said.

"Yeah. It's accepted. I get it."

"Do you?"

"Well, yeah, death's death." Besides, it was me who saw the green light hit his body, not you. It's me who's an orphan, not you. I think I can see the thestrals just fine, thank you very much. Cho looked as if she wanted to say more but Harriet cut her off, "Well, I gotta run. It was nice talking to you. See ya around!" Not.